


The Face

by Scrunchles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Update Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 15:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunchles/pseuds/Scrunchles
Summary: Roadhog likes Junkrat's face.  The one he makes when he sets off a bomb.  He likes it a lot.





	The Face

**Author's Note:**

> How’s everyone loving that Junkertown shit? Good? Good. The first bit is heavily inspired by [this post](http://sillyscrunchy.tumblr.com/post/164441505170/roadrat-first-meeting-and-jaime-just-being-super) by ilatrash on tumblr.
> 
> Many thanks to froggyflan for the great beta. She’s great.

There was someone in the bar that wouldn’t shut up.  He just kept prattling on and on about how he was going to nick the queen’s axe, how he was going to make his fortune on her stores of gold.  He was going to sabotage the mech battles and steal the grand prize–not that he knew what it was, that’s why he was going to nick it.  It was for the  _thrill_ of it, the rush of rubbing his hands all over something that once belonged to someone else but now it was his, his,  _his.  Junkrat’s_! **  
**

And that was about all Roadhog could take.  He was a big man, and he didn’t move fast. Usually, he didn’t have to, but he wanted the skinny little shit to  _just–  “Shut. Up.”_ Roadhog growled menacingly.

He had his hand around Junkrat’s throat, had him shoved back against a wall with nowhere to go and no one in the whole goddamned bar would have stepped forward to help him even if they knew and liked him.

They didn’t.

Roadhog had expected a shriek from the shrill voice, begging, maybe a babbling plea or an attempt to move him to pity that would make him release Junkrat.

Instead, he let out the most disgusting little tittering whoop under his breath and brought his left hand up to stroke his flesh fingers down Roadhog’s bare arm, from his wrist to his elbow.  He left goosebumps in his wake, and Roadhog tightened his grip out of reflex.  He wanted this to stop.

“Ohhh…”Junkrat groaned.  Roadhog squeezed tighter, angrier by the second.  “Choke me harder…” he gasped, his eyes beginning to redden, and his mouth gaping grotesquely.

Roadhog immediately dropped him.  

“No?” Junkrat’s voice rasped, but he had a giggle on the end nonetheless.  “Okay, fine.  Let me live.  Not like I had any plans for the afterlife anyway.” He dusted himself off like it would make a difference.  “Aside from haunting her royal bleghness.”

Roadhog clenched his fist until his knuckles cracked.  The queen was the best thing that ever happened to Junkertown.  It was a fucking shit show before she showed up; no purpose or vision.  They were a bunch of loons scrapping around just to eck out a living and killing each other over the stupidest shit.  Like being too loud in a fucking bar.

Junkrat paused and studied Roadhog for a moment before his expression changed back to pure delight and he giggled, high and long.  “Not one of her bodyguards are ya?  Never seen one before. Guess they just blend in– well not you, could spot you in any crowd, right humdinger you are– oh! But ol’ queenie doesn’t really need ‘em much anyway, come to think of it.  Ripped poor Chuckpail’s incisor right out with her bare hand last week for daring to sit on ‘er throne–”

Roadhog resisted the urge to choke the living daylights out of the simpleton again– if said simpleton would enjoy it, there was no point– and turned to leave.  Getting out of range of his voice seemed to be the only way to stop hearing it, and considering the pitch of it, he would need to be halfway across Junkertown before it even dimmed in the slightest.

Junkrat followed him toward the door.  Still yapping away.

Roadhog decided that Junkrat might enjoy being choked, but he couldn’t possibly enjoy Roadhog’s fist in his face.

He was wrong.

Their first bar fight brought the place down, and left Roadhog with a grudging respect for Junkrat’s filthy tactics and small explosives, as well as a morbid curiosity for where he kept all of them.  His pouches were far too small for the amount of oomph he packed.

From there, like most scenarios where Junkrat was concerned, things spiraled out of control.

Junkrat liked Roadhog.  He made it clear every time he was near him, which was far, far too often for Roadhog.

Once Roadhog had slammed Junkrat into a wall and nearly strangled him, he was stuck with the skinny shitheel.

And, surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.

Junkrat was intelligent in the weirdest ways and his humor was even weirder.

Strangely enough, he made Roadhog laugh.  He made him laugh harder than he had in a long, long time. Roadhog had been around longer than Junkertown or the corpse of the omnium it had taken root in.  He probably hadn’t laughed at a joke or a turn of phrase in about as long as that.

Until he met Junkrat.

He also hadn’t felt anger so hot it felt like it would burn through him and consume him whole in almost as long.  Junkrat made him feel that too.  The night he dragged his spindly ass into Roadhog’s hovel in the middle of the night, his teeth bloody and one eye swollen shut, Roadhog gripped the frame of his bed until it bent.

“No worries, just need a corner to hide out in.  Don’t mind, do ya?  ‘Course you don’t, big fella like you with all this space to himself.  Got a corner to spare for a night, yeah?”

“Get over here,” Roadhog had growled.  He wanted to go murder whatever assholes–it had to have been more than one; Junkrat was a formidable fighter–had roughed up his… friend? Maybe?… But right then, Junkrat needed him.

Roadhog watched as Junkrat curled tight into a ball in the corner of his home.

“Come.  Here,” he said, making sure to put special emphasis on each word.  If Junkrat didn’t uncurl and move toward him, Roadhog was going to go pry him open like an oversized slater.

Junkrat eventually slunk over like a hobbled cassowary and paused a good foot from the edge of Roadhog’s bed.

Roadhog shifted so that he was laying on his side and shut his eyes, though he was still too angry to actually sleep.  There was a pause, then a soft creak as Junkrat joined him.  Roadhog was trying so hard to quell his rage that he didn’t feel Junkrat slide closer on the thin, shitty mattress until a cold metal hand touched his waist, then a warm hand with knobby knuckles and long fingers slid beneath his bulk, drawing Junkrat’s body close enough to cling to him.

“G’night, Roadie…”

Roadhog grunted in response and tried to ignore the leg slipping between his own, and the warmth spreading from the press of Junkrat against his back.

He should have known better than to try to sleep on his side.  The instant he was asleep, he rolled right over onto his back and trapped Junkrat until the wriggling slip of a man smacked him hard enough with his metal hand to get his attention.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sleepily, turning back on his side and trying to go back to sleep, pressed as close to the edge of the bed as possible.

“Lie on your back, mate,” Junkrat told Roadhog, trying to push him back down.

“Not enough room,” Roadhog pointed out.

“Truuuuust me!” Junkrat begged, still pulling at Roadhog’s shoulder.

Roadhog sighed and rolled over.  He took up most of the mattress by himself.  Even with how thin Junkrat was, and how far over Roadhog was, there was no way they would be able to comfortably fit on the bed together.

It quickly became apparent that Junkrat had a solution when he began to climb Roadhog’s stomach.  It wasn’t such an insurmountable task, but the metal of his hand, elbow and knee pinched and dug into Roadhog painfully.  Once Junkrat was settled and splayed on top of Roadhog like a bony blanket, though, it wasn’t so bad.

“Good?” Junkrat chirped.

“Go to sleep,” Roadhog replied.  

The next day, Roadhog made sure that anyone in Junkertown that wanted to fuck with Junkrat knew that they would get him first.

Roadhog told Junkrat that he had taken care of his problem for him and all he got was a cheery, “ta!” and Junkrat climbing up his stomach to flop across him every night.  Roadhog complained, but Junkrat somehow knew he didn’t mind.  Maybe he thought he did mind and just didn’t care.  He could barely feel Junkrat on top of him.  When he lost the weight of his arm and leg on subsequent nights, the only thing reminding him that Junkrat was there was his warmth and his progressively wandering hand.

Long, nimble fingers poked and prodded and petted and pinched until Roadhog finally drew a tenuous line at Junkrat loosening his belt.  The groping and fawning he could take, but he hadn’t slept any less ready to jump out of his bed and tear across the town in nearly two decades.

Junkrat talked circles around him until Roadhog just gave up and let him do whatever he wanted.  Junkrat wanted Roadhog to loosen up, take off the rigid metal grill and all the pouches on his belt and his harness–just take the bloody things off, like they were just so easy to be without.

He didn’t realize he hadn’t been comfortable in fifteen years.

Once the harness and his belt was gone, Junkrat traced the lines they’d worn into him.  Pale from the sun being blocked and smooth from the constant rub.  Roadhog’s overalls slowly made their way lower and lower each night, Junkrat tittering away like an excited hyena, swearing he was going to get Roadhog to sleep in the buff if it killed him.

It wasn’t long before Roadhog’s arms stopped resting as deadweight beside him and started draping over Junkrat, petting his back and sides, then, with some soft encouragement and plenty of drink, flipping him over and fumbling thick, unpracticed fingers down his trousers.

Soon, Roadhog got better at touching Junkrat in the dark.  Soon, he couldn’t get enough of Junkrat.  Soon, he stripped out of his harnesses and overalls every night.

Soon, he left bruises on Junkrat’s neck once a week. It wasn’t soon enough that he realized that Junkrat was hiding something from him.

Junkrat had at least two screws loose at all times, and every time he set off anything larger than a concussion mine, another screw came loose and he creamed his pants.  There was a look he got, a noise he made and it never happened when Roadhog was fucking him.

Roadhog wanted it, though.  He wanted Junkrat to make the stupidest face he’d ever seen, and make the dumbest sound he’d ever heard.  He wanted to be as good as an explosion for Junkrat.

Once he started paying attention, he realized that the sex wasn’t the problem.  

Junkrat clenched around him.  His eyes snapped shut and his lips screwed together, jaw taut.  

Roadhog slowed his hand on Junkrat’s cock and an unhappy groan rumbled deep in his chest.

“Stop holding back,” he growled, when Junkrat didn’t seem to even notice he was keeping him close but not helping him tip over the edge.  “Make the face.”

It took a few seconds for Roadhog’s words to sink in, but he was patient, and he slowed his thrusts to match his sluggish, even passes around Junkrat’s prick.

“What?” Junkrat asked, cracking an eye open before opening both and frowning at Roadhog.  His eyebrows raised up so high they almost met his receding hairline and his bottom lip poked out a little, just enough that Roadhog had the ridiculous urge to kiss it.

“Make. The face,” Roadhog repeated, punctuating the demand with a hard thrust.

Junkrat’s face went through a series of changes; his cheeks colored and his mouth dropped open for a heartbeat with nothing coming out, then he recovered and clamped back down, furrowing his brows and crossing his arms as Roadhog still moved him up and down his cock slowly with one hand and pumped his cock just as slowly with the other.

“Not a clue what you’re talking about, mate,” Junkrat finally said, once he could keep a somewhat straight face.

Roadhog laughed and leaned in closer.  He rolled the callus of his thumb along the ridge of Junkrat’s head and gave him a squeeze.  

Junkrat let out a breathy whine and Junkrat’s eyes crossed before they snapped back into focus.  “The face you make when you blow shit up.  I want it,” Roadhog growled.

Junkrat flushed again and shook his head, but whatever he was going to say was cut off in a ragged gasp when Roadhog tightened his grip and gave Junkrat a few more quick, helpful strokes.  Junkrat went gooey for just a couple of seconds before he smoothed his expression back out.

“Give me the face, or I won’t let you come,” Roadhog said, his voice low and it would have been deadly for anyone else but the lovable idiot bouncing slowly in his lap.

“You wouldn’t…”

He wouldn’t.  “I will,” he rumbled, “if you don’t give me the face.  Know you’ve been hiding it.”

Junkrat looked like he was about to argue, so Roadhog gave him a few more quick passes of his hand coupled with hard, fast thrusts before slowing back down again.

“Christ!  Fuck!  Shit, okay.  Okay, okay.  I want… fuck, I’m so close, Roadie, just give me a little more,” he whined, wrapping his arms around Roadhog’s neck and trying to move himself faster, but he couldn’t choose between Roadhog’s cock or his hand and just ended up rocking bonelessly between the two.

“Give me the face.”

“Christ… fuck… yeah, yeah, sure.  I just…” Junkrat’s entire face softened, and Roadhog felt him relax against him.  His mouth opened a little, gaping with pleasure, and his eyes took on an innocent, rounded quality that was hard to see beneath his normally low-set brows.

True to his word, Roadhog started stroking Junkrat faster, twisting his massive hand around Junkrat’s cock and toying with the head.  He knew what Junkrat liked.

Junkrat started bouncing himself faster.  His eyes crossed and his mouth dropped open further in a breathless sigh.  When he came, he let out something that wasn’t a giggle, but wasn’t a moan either.  A trilling “oohoo oohoo ooh!” that made Roadhog’s hips snap up hard into Junkrat one last time before he spilled deep inside him.

“Oooh…” Junkrat groaned, still moving around Roadhog, though slowly, like he kept thinking about sliding off of the massive cock softening inside him, but just couldn’t be assed to.  “Fuck me, that was grand,” he said.

“Don’t do it again,” Roadhog told him, bringing his come-streaked hand up to pet Junkrat’s sweaty hair back from his forehead.

“I tried not to, you big piece of shi–”

“Hide it,” Roadhog clarified.

“Oh…” Junkrat stopped and he looked down at Roadhog’s chest, traced his fingers across the spacer in Roadhog’s nipple piercing.  “Righto.”

Roadhog huffed and grabbed the hogdrogen hose to take a long hit before shoving his mask up and leaning in to kiss Junkrat.

“Eugh.  That stuff tastes rank,” Junkrat said between kisses.

“Want me to stop?” Roadhog asked, but he didn’t, because he already knew the answer.

“Course not,” Junkrat scoffed and settled into Roadhog’s lap properly, once his soft prick finally slipped out from their shifting, to get still and comfortable for a long, drawn out kiss.

“You really don’t mind it?”Junkrat asked when Roadhog moved on to his neck.  

Roadhog dragged his mask back down and took another hit of hogdrogen before giving Junkrat the bone weary sigh that meant he’d just said something ten times more ridiculous than usual.  “It’s perfect,” he told Junkrat.

A high giggle slipped out at that, and Roadhog took another hit of hogdrogen before raising his mask back up for more kisses.

His brain swam, and between the orgasm and the drugs, he was about to pass the fuck out.

“Sleep,” he rumbled as he pulled his mask back down and shifted until he could lie back against one of the two pillows.

Junkrat climbed around and wiggled and tugged before draping himself over Roadhog with the blanket covering them both.

“Sleep,” Junkrat agreed.

Roadhog rested his hand on his boss’s head and gently pet him until he fell asleep, Junkrat following soon after.


End file.
